


Ten Years

by autumnyte



Series: Boss Moshe Hazzan [13]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Angst, M/M, Polyamory, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnyte/pseuds/autumnyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two and a half conversations Troy and Moshe have about Johnny, over the course of a decade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Years

**October 12, 2013**

It’s nearly 3 a.m. on a Saturday when the two of them stumble back to Troy’s place, the scent of beer and cigarette smoke clinging to their clothes after trivia night at Ye Olde Stilwater Pub.

Troy tosses his keys onto the coffee table, and Moshe doesn’t even let him take off his jacket before wrapping both arms around his waist.

"Thanks for tonight," Moshe murmurs, kissing his neck. "Hanging out with Johnny, I mean. I know things ain’t exactly easy between you two, but it… means a lot."

"You still love him." Troy says it calmly, like he’s stating a fact rather than asking a question or making an accusation, but he’s frowning.

Moshe looks him in the eyes. “Well… yeah.”

"Great." Troy sighs and wriggles free of Moshe’s embrace. "Perfect."

Moshe reaches for Troy’s shoulder, but falters, withdrawing his hand before it makes contact. “I reckoned you already knew that.”

"Maybe I did. It’s just…" Troy trails off. He shrugs off his jacket and rifles through the pocket for his cigarettes. By the time he fishes one out and lifts it to his lips, Moshe’s already hovering with a Zippo, poised to light it for him. A tiny smile flickers across Troy’s features before the frown settles back in again. He takes a long drag and blows the smoke out slowly. "What the hell are we doing, Mo? I caught the way Gat was checking you out at the bar. I get the impression things ain’t over between you two."

"I told you about the time Johnny and I gave it a go—after Eesh, I mean. At the time it felt… final." Moshe plucks the cigarette from between Troy’s fingers and takes a puff before handing it back. This is not a conversation he wants to have while tipsy. But Troy’s face tells him he doesn’t have a choice. "Maybe it was just too soon. I dunno. Either way, he doesn’t wanna talk about it. And what’s any of that got to do with you and me?"

"I don’t get where I fit, if you’re still hung up on him. Am I just warming the bed until you and Gat work out your issues?"

"No.  _No_. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick,” Moshe insists, shaking his head. “You and me… it’s nothing to do with Johnny. I turned up at your door that night because I wanted to be with you so bad I could barely think about anything else. And I want that even more now than I did then.” He reaches out again, and this time, he does place a gentle hand on Troy’s shoulder. “But I’ve never been one for conventional relationships, yeah? It ain’t that I’m not willing to commit. When I fall, I fall hard. And I go all in. But for me… hm. My heart’s a bit like a massive gun that never runs out of ammo.”

"What?" Troy furrows his brow, taking another drag. "You lost me."

Moshe chews his lower lip, searching for the right words. “What I’m getting at is… I don’t buy into the notion that love is a finite thing, or that we must limit ourselves to loving just one person at a time. I don’t want those restrictions on me, and I wouldn’t want to put them on you. Is that… something you’d be alright with?”

After a brief hesitation, Troy answers, “Yeah. As long as we’re honest, and I know where we stand.”

"I promise, I’ll always be honest with you. And me loving Johnny does nothing to change the fact that I love you."

Troy chokes mid-inhale, his entire face turning pink as he pounds his chest with a fist. When he recovers, he stares at Moshe wide-eyed and manages, “ _What?_ ”

"Oh. Bollocks," Moshe mutters, realizing too late what he’s said and the magnitude of it. He and Troy have only been together two weeks. Despite how long they’ve known each other, the romance is too new for that sort of revelation. But the cat is already out of the bag, so Moshe swallows back a lump, meets Troy’s gaze and says, "Didn’t mean for it to come out quite yet, or like  _that_ , but yeah. I love you.”

Troy says nothing. Wearing an unreadable expression, he turns away to crush his cigarette in the ashtray. Moshe closes his eyes, bracing for the worst, but then he feels Troy’s hands cupping his face, and Troy’s lips against his.

And he returns the kiss, hard. Going all in.

_________________________________________________

**March 11, 2018**

It’s 3 p.m. on a Sunday when Moshe returns from Mourning Woods Cemetery. His hands are shaking, and his eyes are puffy.

When he walks in the front door, Troy catches one glimpse of him and gets up, heading over to fold him into an embrace. “Wanna talk about it?”

Moshe nods and lets Troy wrap an arm around him and guide him to the couch.

It’s been two weeks since Moshe and Troy reconciled, following a painful nine-month split. It’s also been two weeks since Moshe returned to Stilwater and started truly allowing himself to mourn Johnny’s death.

During that time, Troy has been nothing but supportive. Moshe is grateful for it. It’s a relief to be able to speak openly with someone who understands exactly what Johnny meant—and still means—to him.

Moshe settles back against the cushions. He glances at the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table, but decides against taking one. Instead, he finds himself opening his mouth, and words begin to tumble out. “When Johnny was alive, I always thought we’d have more time, you know? I took it for granted that someday, when we were both ready, we’d get a chance to talk things out. I’d be able to tell him how I felt.”

Troy nods.

"Now I stare at his grave, and I can’t stop thinking what a goddamn fool I was for waiting too fucking long." Moshe’s voice lowers to a whisper. "Because now he’s  _gone_. And it kills me that he died without even knowing.”

Troy’s arm tightens around Moshe’s shoulders. “Look, I’m no expert on Gat. But I did know the guy eleven years, and I got a pretty good idea of what made him tick. For what it’s worth… he knew. I think he knew.”

Moshe blinks back a few tears, his eyes stinging. “Fuck, I hope so. It feels so bloody pointless, telling it to his headstone.”

Troy pulls a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and hands it over.

Moshe gives a low, broken chuckle as he dabs his eyes with the linen fabric. “What—you just happened to be carrying this in your pocket? Who does that, mate?”

Troy smiles and shrugs. “You know me. Better over-prepared than under.”

"Damn right." Moshe shifts closer to rest his head against Troy’s chest.

They cuddle silently for a few minutes before Troy asks, “Hey, you wanna watch TV or something? I’ll let you pick the show.”

"Anything I want? That’s unusually generous of you. You’d let me subject you to Python for the dozenth time?"

Troy chuckles. “That wouldn’t be my first choice, but sure. Whatever you want.”

Moshe twists around in Troy’s arms and gazes up at him with a smirk. “What if I’ve got something else in mind? Not TV.”

“Okay.” Troy quirks an eyebrow. “You wanna fill me in?”

"Yeah." Moshe’s smirk deepens as he arches up to brush his lips against Troy’s. "That’s exactly what I want to do."

__________________________________________________

**September, 23, 2023**

There is no day or night in outer space, and Moshe has lost track of what day of the week it would have been back on Earth. The continual lack of sunlight is both disorienting and depressing.

He lies awake in his quarters, alone in his bed, missing Troy even more than he misses the sun. He’s not sure whether it’s a blessing or a curse that after a decade together, he has every part of Troy committed to memory. In the dark, when he focuses, he can  _almost_  smell Troy’s aftershave, hear Troy’s laugh, feel the ghost of Troy’s fingertips against his skin.

Moshe’s gut churns with worry every time he thinks of Troy. Kinzie is the only one who says it to his face, but he suspects the others have also written Troy off as dead—destroyed along with the planet and most everyone they knew. But Moshe has to believe he made it out, even if the evidence points to the contrary. The alternative is inconceivable.

And now that Johnny has turned up alive, nothing in the universe seems too farfetched.

Johnny,  _alive_.

Moshe’s elation over having him back is tempered only by Troy’s absence, and by the tragedy and severity of their current situation.

He tosses in bed, rolling onto his side. His nerves are thrumming with his desire to seek out Johnny and initiate the conversation he spent the past five years wishing they could have had. And ever since he broke Johnny out of that nightmare sim, he’s gotten the sense that Johnny wants to talk about it, too.

But they haven’t. Not yet. It feels wrong, somehow with Troy trapped in some Zin prison—or worse. Moshe can’t allow himself to contemplate the ‘worse’ part.

He closes his eyes, trying to rest, and he can hear Troy’s voice in his ear.  _“Christ, Mo… your timing never was good. But it’s okay. You always kept a window open and a light on for Gat. You know I know that. Second chances are tough to come by. Don’t let me be the reason this one slips away.”_

Moshe is aware that the voice isn’t really Troy. But he opens his eyes, climbs out of bed and slips into his spacesuit, determined to go see if Johnny is awake.

Time is too precious, and he won’t waste any more of it. Troy wouldn’t want him to.


End file.
